


Into the New Day (Part 2 of The Dawn to Dark Series)

by Fluterbev



Series: The Dawn to Dark Series [2]
Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Angst, Episode Related, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-12-08
Updated: 2003-12-08
Packaged: 2017-10-19 22:12:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/205780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fluterbev/pseuds/Fluterbev
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Issues get discussed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Into the New Day (Part 2 of The Dawn to Dark Series)

**Author's Note:**

> This is the second story in _The Dawn to Dark Series_. Combined with the first part _On the Edge of Dawn_ , it can stand alone as a resolution to TSbyBS, so if you're not in the mood for a long, angsty story about government conspiracies (which begins in Part 3), you should stop after this one!

Sitting in the passenger seat, replete after eating his fill half-an-hour earlier, Jim surreptitiously observed his partner as Sandburg pulled the truck into the picnic area, putting it in 'park'. Ellison sighed. It was a relief not to be driving. His leg still ached after the nightmarish dash from Cascade, dials notwithstanding.

Blair looked, mused Jim, much better than he had when Ellison had first caught up with him. Then, the fluorescent lighting of the diner had accentuated the shadows under his friend's eyes, the pallor of his skin. If Jim hadn't been worried enough about Sandburg already, his first sight of the transparent wraith in the diner, clutching a cell-phone to his ear like a lifeline, would have come as even more of a shock than it had.

It had been a true measure of Blair's exhaustion that he had permitted Jim to take charge of the situation after that. Jim allowed himself a secretive grin. If he had tried to tuck the pre-dissertation Sandburg up in bed, he would have most likely ended up on his ass. The kid could pack quite a punch when he wanted to.

The picnic area had a sign advertising a 'woodland trail', and after locking up the truck the two of them set off along it. They took their time, Sandburg being solicitous of Jim's bad leg; a flicker of what might be guilt flashing across his face every time Jim's steps faltered on the uneven ground. Jim had retrieved his cane from the truck, and it stirred up the leaves a little as he walked along, leaning on it gratefully.

Eventually they reached a fallen tree trunk, big enough for the two of them to sit on, and without a word they settled there; both knowing instinctively that this was the place they had been seeking. The place where they would finally begin to deal with everything that had remained unsaid between them until now. Blair slumped a little, his hands thrust deep in his pockets as if cold; while Jim leaned back, elevating his bad leg on a log with a relieved sigh.

They sat in peace for a while, listening to the noises of nature around them while marshalling their thoughts. Jim silently marveled at his partner. This morning it had been impossible to shut Blair up. Now, he looked wary and reluctant, as though he would rather do anything but talk about what they come here to discuss.

"So," Jim began finally, rubbing some circulation back into his thigh, deciding to get the ball rolling. "Tell me, Sandburg. Just how long were you planning this trip? Your stuff is all gone from the loft, which had to take time to do, and I'm guessing you sold the Volvo. This wasn't some snap decision."

Blair took a breath, and let it out slowly, his expression uncharacteristically guarded. "It wasn't," he admitted. "I knew I was going to leave as soon as I decided to give the press conference."

"Oh." Jim nodded. "Right." He shifted his leg to a more comfortable position. "So, Chief, You had this planned for a while. But you told me before that you didn't know where you were headed. Is that right?"

Blair shrugged. "To tell you the truth, I didn't think much beyond getting away. I have no idea what I would have done if you hadn't shown up. Gotten on the next bus that stopped, probably. I don't know." He swallowed. "I still have no idea what I'm going to do. I only know I... I can't go back."

Jim held up one hand placatingly. "Okay, Chief; don't worry about that now. I'm not trying to push you one-way or the other here. I'm just trying to understand. Okay?"

Blair nodded, so Jim carried on. "Now I know you're pretty upset, and I don't want to say the wrong thing here, all right? But I just need to get this off my chest. This has been bugging me." Jim paused, considering his words. He didn't want to spook Sandburg, but he had needed to say this ever since he'd caught up with him. "I know we've dealt with some shit lately, and I admit that I've probably not been the most understanding guy in the world since this all blew up in our faces. But I thought we were friends, Blair, and I gotta tell you it cuts really deep that you would go off like that without making any attempt to talk to me first. No matter how much of an asshole I've been."

Blair nodded miserably, avoiding looking at Ellison. "I hear that. I know that now, and I'm sorry. I should've talked to you face to face, instead of just leaving that damned note. But, I, uh," he swallowed. "I kinda thought you'd be glad to be rid of me. I think I convinced myself that you'd be relieved just to have me out of your life, so you could just go on like you did before you met me; before your senses came on line. It seemed to be what you wanted."

Guiltily hearing an echo of his own words to Simon - _"I'd like to go back to things the way they were before Sandburg, when I worked alone,"_ \- Jim had to acknowledge that Blair had a point. "Okay. I accept that. I know I wasn't actually at my most approachable this last while. I'm sorry Chief. I guess this whole thing, the press in my face, and the shootings, just blindsided me, and I was really angry there for a while."

Blair nodded. "I know, and I'm sorry Jim." He leaned forward, putting his head in his hands. "God, I'd do anything to turn the clock back. I can't believe you even want to talk to me after what I did."

"Whoa, hold on there, buddy. I know I blamed you at first, but you didn't do this on purpose, all right? Enough already with the sackcloth and ashes. The most you were actually guilty of was leaving the thing where your mother could see it. You said it was a first draft, right? You were planning to take my name out before you actually showed it to anyone?"

Blair nodded, not looking up. "And I was going to let you read it first, like we agreed. And I was looking into ways of defending it in a way that would protect your identity. If I couldn't have done that, I would have thought of other options. Really I would - your anonymity was honestly my top priority. But I never got a chance. Oh god, what a mess."

"Easy, Sandburg. Ease up on the guilt, okay? It's over, it's done. And as damage control methods go, yours worked like a dream. I'm yesterday's news. The only person who's really been hurt by this is you. And you don't deserve this, Blair. You don't."

After a minute, Blair straightened up. He smiled sadly at Jim. "Thanks, man. I really needed to hear that from you." But Jim could tell he wasn't really convinced. Ellison decided to let it lie for now, intending to re-visit Sandburg's tendency toward self-flagellation later.

"Okay." Jim gathered himself. "So, on to my next little issue. I'm going to ignore the fact that you gave me - and Simon, and everyone else there that day - the impression that you would take the badge. Because I know that devious mind of yours wasn't firing on all cylinders. But what I want to know is, have you thought about it? Becoming a cop?"

Blair shook his head. "The truth is, I wasn't thinking about too much of anything once I got on that bus. I wasn't exactly in a rational frame of mind."

Jim rolled his eyes. "You can say that again."

"I wasn't exactly in a rational frame… Hey!" Blair stopped, glaring unconvincingly, as Jim clipped him lightly on the head.

Jim continued as if nothing had happened, although he was secretly delighted that Blair was still able to joke around, even at a time like this. "Well? What do you think about it? And be honest. You put on some show back there. Give me your real reaction this time."

Blair's leg had started tapping nervously. "That whole thing, in the bullpen. It kinda took me by surprise, you know? I was so focused right then on getting away, it didn't really register with me." He stopped a moment, considering. "I mean, yeah, I've thought about it before, becoming a cop," he finally admitted. "I love working with you, man, helping you with your senses. And the detective work was a rush. I honestly couldn't see myself giving it up, going back to full-time academia after the diss was finished. But now?" he shook his head. "So much has happened. I just don't know."

"Well, it's an option for you to consider. Simon said to tell you that the offer is still open."

"Oh god," Sandburg said faintly. "He knows about this, right? He must be really pissed at me. I mean... I know he must have stuck his neck out to do that. To get me a detective's shield. He must think I'm a totally ungrateful bastard."

"He's going to kick your ass," Jim agreed happily, and Blair groaned.

Deciding not to belabor the threat of Banks's wrath for now, tempting though it was, Jim went on, "So, Chief, say you were to decide not to take up the option to be a cop. What else is left? Leaving out the whole blowing your brains out scenario."

Blair grimaced. "Jim... I wouldn't do that, man. I really wouldn't. I was just in a bad space when I left that note. I honestly never meant you to think that."

"Whatever," Jim shrugged, unconvinced, but let it go for now. He fixed his gaze on Blair, who squirmed uncomfortably. "Well? What else could you do? You're a well-qualified guy."

Blair shook his head. "This is going to sound pathetic. The truth is, I have no idea. I've been an anthropologist practically all my life. It's all I ever wanted to do, ever since Naomi and me traveled around, meeting different people in different countries, when I was a kid. I read my first anthropology book when I was nine years old, Jim. I was sixteen when I started at Rainier. I'm twenty-nine now. For the first time in my life, I have absolutely no idea who I am."

Jim nodded. "Okay. So for argument's sake, let's say that door is closed for now. What else could you do?"

Unable to sit still any longer, Blair stood up, turning his back to Jim. After a moment, he spoke. "That's just it, Jim." He said sadly. "The answer is - probably nothing. Not in Cascade, anyway. Everybody believes I lied, man. That I'm a sham." He looked down at the ground for a minute, then turned around to look at Ellison. "Who'd want to employ a fraud?"

Jim took a deep breath, considering Blair's words. Then he stood and moved to stand in front of him. He shook his head. "This just isn't you, Sandburg. You're the guy who fights even when he's backed into a corner. The guy who disarmed a bomb, with one second left on the clock. You've been in some pretty rough situations since you've teamed up with me, and I have never once seen you back off, no matter how hopeless things were."

Blair looked down and didn't answer. Jim used the moment of silence to follow his train of thought, and he found himself having an epiphany about his partner.

During the course of his entire education, Blair had never once failed. Sandburg had, Jim realized, absolutely no idea how to deal with failure. A prodigy, going to university two years earlier than most students; excelling at his chosen discipline, sailing through his degree and his Masters, then sauntering happily through his PhD, riding with Jim and reveling in his participation in the adrenaline-fired world of police work. His research, his work on sentinels, had been everything to him. Everything he ever wanted. And up to now, it had all fallen neatly into place.

The end product of his dedication, his thesis, had been the result of Blair's blood, sweat and tears - quite literally, during the time he had been riding with Jim. And to protect his friend, his partner, his sentinel, he had trashed it all. Invalidated his entire life's work. Blair didn't need to commit suicide - in effect, he already had.

No wonder he felt trapped in this nightmare.

Jim wasn't going to waste his energy on misplaced guilt. Sandburg had done what he had to, to make the best of a bad situation, for which neither of them were directly responsible. And Jim respected him for doing the right thing. But despite what Blair believed, Jim didn't accept that the situation was hopeless. It was time to get Sandburg back on track.

Needing to break through his partner's self-pity, Jim said, "I'll tell you one thing. If I was ever again accused of being a dirty cop, when I knew it wasn't true, then I would fight with everything that I had to clear my name."

Blair looked at him incredulously. "I know man, but this is different!" He barely managed to suppress the agitation in his voice. "No-one accused me - I did this to myself. I stood up on live TV, and declared myself a fraud. It was on fucking CNN, Jim!"

Ellison was relieved to see a bit of spirit. It was time Sandburg got angry. He grasped Blair's shoulders firmly, and shook him in time with his words. "You. Are not. A fraud!" He let go. "And the sooner you remember that, Sandburg, the better. You've been believing your own press release for far too long. It's time for you - for us - to fight this thing. Starting with suing the ass off of Rainier and Sid Graham."

"Jim, I'm not in a position to sue anyone! Don't you get it man? I do that, and this whole thing will blow up again."

Jim lifted up his hand, counting off on his fingers. "One: you never claimed to Rainier that the thesis that was made public was your doctoral dissertation. Two: they had no right to appropriate your work. Three: They had absolutely no grounds to fire you - Edwards had a personal vendetta against you because you kept showing up her screw-ups. Four: Berkshire Publishing were sent your work without your knowledge, and five: they released excerpts to the press against your express permission. Ever hear of bullying and harassment in the workplace, wrongful dismissal and intellectual property rights, Sandburg? Neither the University nor the publishing house have a leg to stand on."

Blair was astounded. "Jim. You've really thought about this."

"One of us had to. Since you were obviously too busy having a little lonely pity party, I got some advice of my own. The lawyer says we have a good case. They'll most likely settle out of court."

"Jim, when did you see a lawyer?"

"I didn't. Simon did it while I was on the road, chasing after you."

"Oh man," Blair said weakly, moving to sit down on the log again. "Oh man," he repeated. "I can't believe... I can't believe he did that." He looked up at Jim, shaking his head. "I can't believe you did that. Jesus, Jim."

"What's so difficult to understand, Junior? You've risked your neck for Simon in the past, just as you have for me. Neither of us were going to sit back and watch you go under. As someone I respect once said to me, it's about friendship."

Blair didn't answer, looking a little shell-shocked. Jim decided to change tack. "Chief, you once called me your... what was it? Beloved protector?"

"Blessed." Blair murmured. "It was blessed protector."

"Yeah, yeah, that was it. Blessed protector. From the Chinese, right? Something about having a duty to keep on saving someone's life, if you do it once? Wasn't that it?"

Blair sighed. "Yeah. Look Jim, I see where you're going with this..."

Jim waved him silent. "No, I don't think you do. Hear me out, Junior, okay?" When Blair nodded reluctantly, Jim carried on. "Good. Now, I always thought you had that blessed protector thing turned around. Who saved whose life first, huh?"

Blair blinked. "It's not a contest, man. But if you want me to say it, I will. I'd be dead a hundred times over but for you. The first time you saved my life? Kincaid would have killed me for sure if you hadn't jumped on to that chopper. And then there was that whole Lash thing." He frowned. "And before that you threw the bomb out of the bus, when we first teamed up, so I guess that was really the first time. But saving me was pretty much a side-effect. You saved everybody on board, man." Jim was shaking his head, rolling his eyes. "What?"

"C'mon, Chief. I can't believe you don't remember. What about the garbage truck? The first day we met? I was zoned, you pushed me under it..." He stopped at Blair's growing comprehension.

"Oh. That." His partner said, looking away.

"Oh. That." Jim mimicked. "At last he gets it." He sat down again next to Sandburg. "Blair, ever since we met, ever since you stopped me from becoming road kill - at the risk of your own life, I might add - _you_ have been _my_ blessed protector. You risked your life for me that day, and ungrateful bastard that I am, I don't remember ever thanking you for it. So I'm doing it now. Thank you. But you know what? You have saved my life every single day since. Every time you convinced me that what I have is a gift, not a curse."

Jim headed off Blair's attempt to interrupt before it began. "Just shut up and listen, Chief. Do you really think I don't understand what you're feeling right now? Well think again, Blair. I was exactly where you are the day that I first met you. And if Freud was right, that all our actions are ruled by our subconscious, my zoning in front of a truck that was about to mow me down was more by design than by accident, even if I didn't realize it at the time. Because I was sure that my life as I knew it was over. And maybe, just maybe, I didn't want it to carry on any longer."

Blair was looking at Jim now. "Oh man," he said weakly. "Jim." He was too upset by Jim's admission of the depths of his former despair, to marvel at his friend slipping Freud into his argument.

Jim waved him silent. "I'm not finished, Sandburg. I'm not even going to touch on all the other times you've been there for me these last few years, backing me up, being a good cop, and an even better friend. Because that's a given. You might think I don't understand what you've given up here, Chief. Well I'll tell you. You were prepared to give up your career, hell your _vocation_ for me, as well as your good name. I _know_ what that means to you. So I sure as hell am not going to sit back and watch you give up the rest of your _life_ as well."

Jim caught Blair's hand in his own, and held it up between them. The hand stirred in his hold, as though Blair wasn't sure whether to pull it away or not, embarrassed by the gesture. Jim ignored his discomfort. "Do you know what I feel when I do this?"

Blair grinned a little nervously, hiding behind a weak attempt at humor. "Hey, what's with the PDA, man? You are so not my type."

"Don't panic, Junior. Just go with me here. I mean 'feel' as in _feel_. With my senses."

Blair's interest was immediately engaged. "No. What do you feel?"

Jim's thumb ran over Blair's knuckles, and Sandburg watched, entranced, as the sentinel's face took on the characteristic look of deep concentration typical of the times he engaged his incredible senses.

"I feel a slight roughness, here," Jim indicated with a circular motion of his thumb. "There's a scar, small, old. The edges are clean, so it was a cut made by something sharp." He turned Blair's hand over, and ran his fingers delicately over the palm, and up the fingers. "I can feel the calluses from pens here," he indicated, "and this finger was broken once. I can feel the ridge of healed tissue around the old fracture."

Blair didn't speak, unwilling to break the spell the sentinel had cast, unutterably moved. He recognized this as the priceless gift it was; Jim sharing his senses with Blair without reservation. Volunteering the knowledge freely, without prompting; not as part of a test, or to solve a crime. For absolutely the first time in their partnership.

Jim's hand moved to cover Blair's palm, and the sentinel closed his eyes as he said, "Your temperature is slightly raised, I'd say about one degree above what is normal for you. You need to watch your blood pressure, Chief." He grinned, glancing at Blair, who was watching him raptly. Jim moved his hand again. "I can feel the blood running through your veins and arteries; your pulse." He paused for a second, then said, "It's slightly elevated right now. And here," he moved his fingertips to lightly brush the pads of Blair's fingers. "I can see your fingerprints." Jim had closed his eyes, the miraculous synesthesia of his sense of touch acting in lieu of actual vision. "I know them, Blair. Every ridge and furrow of each one of them. I see them all the time, all over the loft, my desk at work. Out of a thousand others, I can always make out yours."

Jim opened his eyes, and scented the air. "I can smell your shampoo, and that god awful soap from the motel. The faint burnt oil smell of that bus, on your coat. Coffee - you've definitely overdone the caffeine the last few days, Chief. Hmm, pancakes. If I hadn't seen what you ate this morning, I would still be able to tell what you'd had. And your stomach is still a little upset. Too much stress and not enough food for too long."

Jim inhaled deeply. "Then under that, there's you. Your own essence. The same scent that's strongest in your room at the loft - I can still smell it in there, by the way, even though you moved your stuff out. Just fainter. I know that scent. I always know it, just like I know your fingerprints. It's a part of my world."

Marveling at the extent of information Jim was able to extract just with touch and smell, and vaguely aware that he hadn't realized Jim's sensitivity was quite so acute, Blair seized on the critical point Jim was making. "Imprinted," he murmured. At his partner's questioning look, he clarified "There is a legend in Guatemala that ancient sentinels imprinted those closest to them on their senses, so that they would always recognize their sensory signature. Sort of like a homing beacon, to ensure the safety of the most precious members of the tribe. Like the chief, and the sentinel's family, especially the children. To ensure the continuation of the sentinel gene pool, I guess."

Jim had fixed him with an earnest gaze. "And the guide? Did they imprint on their guides too?"

"Man, I thought you had forgotten that." Blair laughed shortly, the sound nervous and a little high pitched. "That's what Brackett called me, right?"

Ellison hadn't let go of Sandburg's hand. "And Incacha. He recognized what you were right away. That you were a guide, like him. He said so."

Blair frowned. "He asked if I was your spiritual guide in the city, is that what you mean? Jim, that was just someone from a more primitive culture overlaying his own experience on our more advanced one, as a means of interpretation. So he could make sense of a vastly unfamiliar environment. There's nothing unique about me, like there is about you. I'm just a guy who's studied people with hyperactive senses. Anyone with that knowledge could 'guide' you."

Jim squeezed Blair's hand. "Chief, you're not getting this. Take your academic hat off for a minute and just listen." When Sandburg acquiesced, he continued. "Remember when I told you that I didn't remember a lot of my time in Peru? When I lived with the Chopec?" When Blair nodded, he went on "Well a little while ago, it started to come back to me."

"Really?" Blair looked at him curiously. "When did it start to happen?"

"It was in Sierra Verde." Jim admitted. "After I came out of the temple."

"Oh." Blair said shortly. That had been a difficult time, for both of them, and the memory still gave Sandburg pause. "So," he asked cautiously, "Can you tell me what you remembered?"

Ellison nodded. "Specifically it was the time I spent with Incacha. When Incacha guided me. I _knew_ Incacha, just like I _know_ you. With all of my senses. No one else in the tribe; just him. Like now, it's just you. I've tried learning the, what did you call it? 'Sensory signature' of other people, like Simon, and even Stephen and my dad. But it doesn't work the same with them. But with you, ever since Sierra Verde, I can walk into a room that you've been in hours before, and know you've been there. It's that acute." He shrugged. "I have to admit, Chief, it freaked me out at first."

Blair shook his head. "That's a pretty incredible thing to be able to do, Jim. I never knew you could do that." He looked wistful, and perhaps a little hurt that Ellison had never mentioned it before; although he attempted to bury it under his curiosity. "But in some ways it's not necessarily a surprise. We live together. Lived I mean." He paused. "We worked together. Hell, the last few years we did nearly everything together. You're around me more than anyone else, so it stands to reason that you'd be more familiar with me sense-wise than, say Simon, who'd be our equivalent of a chief, right?"

Jim shook his head. "There's more I never told you, Sandburg. I also remembered Incacha telling me about the connection between a sentinel and guide. What you call 'imprinting' happened because the guide was the most important member of the tribe _to the sentinel_. The sentinel needed the guide to watch his back, and enable him to function at his fullest. The fact that they had a unique sensory connection allowed the sentinel to keep track of the guide; watch _his_ back in turn. Because otherwise, the sentinel was vulnerable." Jim shrugged. "Without a guide he could zone and get conked on the head by an enemy, and wham! No more sentinel."

"This is so cool, man." Blair was wide-eyed, an animated butterfly freed after too long in a grey cocoon. "I wish I'd had a chance to talk to Incacha about this stuff myself. It's incredible primary source material, Jim. I mean, I knew that sentinels had partners. And of course Burton wrote about the sentinel's partner in his monograph. But this is the first time I've heard of an actual, unique, sensory phenomenon specific to the sentinel's relationship with his partner. It's just... it's just, wow man!"

Jim had to smile at Sandburg's enthusiasm. It was such a relief to see the real Blair re-emerge. "Well, just hold onto your hat, Darwin. I want to tell you my theory."

Blair grinned, delighted. "Hey man, _I'm_ supposed to be the anthropologist in this partnership! What theory?"

"Here goes. You're gonna love this, Chief. I believe that just as I am a 'sentinel', that you are a 'guide', with abilities every bit as unique as mine. That's what Incacha meant when he named you 'shaman.' I mean, you are the only person I've ever met besides Incacha who understands this sentinel stuff, and you can pull solutions out of a hat which help me with my senses at a moment's notice. I won't even mention how lethal you are with baseballs and hoses, but I have never worried about your ability to back me up. And, you know, I always thought there was something screwy about Alex Barnes meeting up with you in Cascade. Now I think she was probably drawn to you, because of what you are."

Blair shook his head. "That was just a coincidence, Jim. It's more likely, given your reaction to her, that it was you who drew her."

Jim shrugged. "Whatever. But the fact is, Chief, that Incacha saw something special in you the first minute he laid eyes on you. He assumed right away you had taken over his role as my guide. And then, when he was..." Jim paused, the memory still causing him pain. "When he was dying, he passed on the way of the shaman to you. Believe me, to him that was a big thing. He wouldn't have done that if he didn't think you had the necessary ability. Being a shaman is a big deal to the Chopec." He paused. "Do you get what I'm saying here?"

Blair nodded, his expression serious. "Maybe. I think so. I don't necessarily agree with you, man, but I'm listening."

"Okay. Good. Now there's more I need to say, and you're maybe not going to like it. Just hear me out, okay?" Blair nodded. "I have to admit I've never been completely straight with you. There's a lot I've held back from you about these senses. All the tests you did, they never even scratched the surface. I'll be honest with you now - that damned dissertation always got in the way. I resented the hell out of it, of having my life dissected and reduced to words on a page, when what I really wanted was so much more with you, to share it all with you, like I did with Incacha; to work on ways of making it even better. But I didn't; because I was never sure that I wasn't anything more than a lab rat to you."

Stricken, Blair said, "Jim. You were always more than that. You're incredible, man. I can't deny that what you can do is awesome to me. But you're my friend too; you have been for a long time now. And that was always the most important thing to me."

Jim nodded. "I know, Chief. I know that. How could I not know that after what you've done? You've put yourself through hell, giving up everything for me, and I'm just sorry it had to come to this before I finally got it."

Ellison paused, then looked intently at Blair. "Okay. So here's the deal." He said. "I trust you, Sandburg. I trust you with my life. This," he held up their joined hands again, "This connection we have, is very important to me, and the fact is, I don't want to lose it. Come back to Cascade with me, and I'll do my best not to hold out on you any more. I'll tell you the whole truth about my senses from now on. And I won't doubt you again. I'm no saint, you know that. Sometimes I'll screw up. But I'll give it my best shot.

"And in return, I need you to work with me, with my senses. Be my guide, as you were supposed to be all along. Help me be a sentinel to the best of my ability. And Chief, you have to trust me to see you through this mess - to watch your back just as you've always watched mine. Because running away by yourself, refusing to deal with all the shit that has happened, is no solution."

Jim didn't resist when Blair pulled away, his hand opening to let his partner go. Blair walked off a little way, and Ellison purposefully retracted his senses to give him privacy.

Finally, Blair came back. "I don't know if I can be a cop, Jim."

“Then don't. We'll work something else out."

Blair considered a moment, then nodded. "Okay."

"Okay, as in you'll come home?"

"I'll come. But I still have no idea how to deal with everything that's happened, man. It won't be easy."

"It never is. But we'll do it together. Sentinel and guide."

Blair nodded. The sun chose that moment to peep through the cloud, lending a radiance to Sandburg's tentative smile that had been missing for far too long. "Together." He agreed. "Although we have to talk about some of your wild theories in greater depth. And tests! Man, You'll wish you'd never held out on me."

Jim rolled his eyes. "God help me. Sandburg's back!"


End file.
